Most Wanted
by Tekitwa Dreamer
Summary: Kaiba Mokuba is mad. Sleepless, a problem, nabbed by people of your past. Namely a Bakura Ryou, an' his somewhat psychotic yami. Of course 'e's mad.
1. Anger and a Katana

Just a random toy of my mind.

Rating: PG (currently) for random swearing, of random sorts.

Disclaimer: I don' own anythin' related to Yu-Gi-Oh. Sadly enough. Or Manson. Even sadder.

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A sleepless week, combined with innumerable caramel corettos, had left in its wake and exhausted Kaiba Mokuba. Bleary, bloodshot gray eyes stared from behind soot black bangs, their red-rimmed brilliance a stark contrast to his light face. His ruffled hair was no different from its usual mess not-style. His clothes, on the other hand, were not those that most expected the younger brother of the CEO of Kaiba Corp to wear. Unlikely to look out of place at some concert, his jean-and-leather ensemble was accentuated by the silvery steel of the handcrafted dagger hanging at his waist. He looked the bad-boy, a role that he would rarely play, preferring to manipulate people into doing his will, laying on the charm, rather than threaten and force them. Few subtle differences separated him from the other sixteen year olds of Domino City.

With a sigh, Mokuba rummaged through the jumble of clothing, paper, and other paraphernalia of a teenaged millionaire student, finally emerging with a remote control in one hand, and a pair of drumsticks in the other. One lazy push of a button sent Marilyn Manson's 'Spade' flooding through the darkened room, while Mokuba resumed his work upon his brother's latest creation, tapping the drumsticks, the drums to which sat in the corner, in time to the drums in the song. Looking down at the papers and diagrams spread out upon his bed, the dark-haired boy suddenly leapt from his comfortable position, and, snatching up a handful of diagrams, stalked from his room.

Growling and muttering obscenities under his breathe, Mokuba slid past two flights of stairs on their banisters, his preferred method of household travel, with the ease of long practice. With all of the grace of a cat, Mokuba slipped off of the railing, and strode towards his older brother's office, the only sounds being the click of his boots upon the hardwood floor, and the hiss that was him swearing. Not bothering to knock, Mokuba opened the door, and stepped into the expansive, tastefully decorated room, glancing around to find…nothing.

"Nii-sama?" The question hovered in the air before him, until he snarled, "By the unholy mother of Ra!" and stormed out of the room.

Another two flights of banisters and numerous curses on Mokuba's part later, the not-so-happy teen wrenched open the front door of the Kaiba mansion, pausing briefly to grab his jacket from the hook by the door, prior to slamming the door angrily behind him. The roar of a Suzuki Katana and the horrid crunch of gravel broke the night-silence as Mokuba tore down the driveway and down the street.

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	2. Coffee is Good

Continuin'. Fun, ne? Feedback is wanted.

Disclaimer: Still don' own Yu-Gi-Oh.

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"WHY he has to pick tonight to go out 'roaming' with Mai," grumbled Mokuba as he sped down the darkened streets of Domino. "WHY?!" 

His anger towards his brother lasted for a tank and a half of gasoline, and by then Mokuba was feeling quite overdue for a coretto. Tearing down the active streets, Mokuba slid to a halt in front of the first all-night café that he saw, almost flying off in his hurry to get a coffee. With the knowledge that his bike would be snagged if he left it on the street (having lost four others in that same way), Mokuba wheeled it into the empty coffee shop. When the cashier opened her mouth to object, Mokuba silenced her with his patented "Glare of Impending Doom."

"I'll be taking…" Mokuba riffled through his pockets, "…two caramel corettos, please." Taking the money out of his pocket, he plunked it down in front of the nervous cashier, and took a table in the corner furthest from the door. Five tense minutes passed until the cashier-turned-waitress brought Mokuba his coffee. Sprinkling, more like dumping, chocolate sprinkles liberally into both drinks, he motioned for the woman to sit down. With a nod, she obeyed.

"I'm Mokuba," he introduced himself. "Thanks for the coffee."

"I'm, I'm Ohara…" she replied haltingly. "And, you're welcome."

Taking a close look at Ohara, Mokuba noticed a smouldering resentment in her. Her eyes, a piercing emerald green, told him everything that he would ever need to know about her. She was like him, in a way. Troubled, but strong enough to bear it. Devoted. But, if the ring on her hand was any indication, she was married.

Noticing the same in him, Ohara relaxed, and the pair spent a comfortable hour talking, talking of their lives, family, work, anything that they hose to talk about they talked about. At midnight, when Ohara's shift ended, they parted, her to her husband's embrace, him to the road upon his bike.

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	3. Let Me Guess

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. At all. Except for the plot.

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Speeding down a brightly lit alley, Mokuba felt an ever-growing sense of unease, a feeling that he despised. With the intent of reaching the next road, looking for his sibling and his lover, or maybe more coffee, he suddenly felt the ground rumble beneath his bike. A cat streaked down the alley. It headed in the direction that Mokuba had just come. A deep sense of foreboding enveloped the raven-haired youth.

An apparition ahead of him caused Mokuba to jump on his brakes, his bike skidding uncontrollably towards the thing-a Man-Eater Bug, Mokuba realized. The young Kaiba leapt from his bike, hitting the ground hard and rolling for a few feet. Thankful for his jeans and leather jacket that he wore, Mokuba winced as he got to his feet and dusted himself off, watching as his bike sped towards the beast in a shower of sparks and ear splitting squeals. Turning to run, in case the monster decided that he was more interesting than the bike, he found himself staring into somewhat familiar crimson-flecked brown eyes (Or were they brown-flecked crimson? Mokuba wondered), unable to run.

"Well, hello, Mokuba-san. Fancy running into you here!" The voice was familiar. As was the long, white hair, tanned skin…and pointed canines. He was clad for warm weather in a light cotton top, loose beige archaeologist-style shorts, and hiking boots. His wrists were tastefully adorned with golden bangle inscribed with Egyptian hieroglyphics. Save for the numerous daggers tucked away at various locations of his body, the man wore but one other ornament: a golden Ring, to which five triangular spikes protruded. A triangle with the Eye of Horus etched into it was positioned in the middle of the Ring, thus completing the Millenium Ring.

Yami no Bakura smiled his fanged smile at the look of recognition on Mokuba's face. "I see you remember me, gake. How are we doing, lately?" The innocence in Bakura's voice made Mokuba cringe: he had heard that tone before.

"You've oh-so-happily kidnapped me often enough that I highly doubt you'll be forgotten." Mokuba replied casually, unconsciously reverting the well-bred vocabulary and speech that his older brother and Mai were always nagging him to use. That's only half of it, Mokuba though to himself. It was true that Bakura wouldn't be forgotten, but not solely because of the kidnapping issue. "What do you want, Bakura-san?"

"Abrupt little thing, aren't you?" Mokuba bristled at Bakura's remark. "What do you think I want?"

"Let me guess, you want me. Correct?" The teen's cold voice was suddenly dripping sarcasm.

"Why, yes!" A blur of movement found Mokuba turned around, set to face the carnage that was his precious bike, the sounds of whose destruction had been muted in his discussion with Bakura, who was now standing behind the started Mokuba, pinning his arms. "Now, walk." Feeling a blade pressed against his throat, Mokuba relaxed, and obeyed. At least it was his dagger.

Two lefts and a right later, Bakura stopped, Mokuba a scant half step behind him. In front of them stood a shabby, run-down building, its worn door padlocked shut. Using the knife that he had purloined off of his dark-haired captive, Bakura picked the lock expertly, and, with a horrendous squeal, the door opened to reveal a brightly lit, well-furnished room.

"Ryou!" Bakura called. He slammed the door shut, causing the mirror lining the walls of the room to shudder dangerously. A young man raced out from behind a wall hanging. Apparently there was a door there. Mokuba stored this little tidbit of information away as the newcomer started to talk.

"Don't slam that damn door. Nearly every time you do, you break a mirror!" Having finished his short tirade, the newcomer turned to face Mokuba. Except for the absence of fangs in his smile, and a somewhat less maniacal gleam in his brown eyes, the man could have been Bakura's twin. "And, hello, Mokuba-san," he said, addressing the younger man cheerfully.

"Hello, Ryou-san (for that was the only person who this young man could possibly be)," Mokuba started. "Why…?"

"You will find out 'why' soon enough. For now," Bakura Ryou indicated Mokuba to follow him, "You will be staying with us." He didn't elaborate, but nodded to his 'twin', and led Mokuba through a doorway hidden by an intricately woven tapestry, chatting amicably with his companion. At length, he stopped in front of a black-painted door, and gave Mokuba a key.

"This is for you," he said shortly. "This room is yours to use, as the clothing, makeup, and jewellery is yours to wear." He unlocked the door with what was obviously a spare key, and beckoned Mokuba to enter. Without waiting for his guest to fully cross the threshold into his new room, Ryou cheerfully bade him goodnight, and left.

Shaking his head, Mokuba closed the door. He was half-tempted to lock the door, but figured that it would be nothing more than a waste of both his and Yami no Bakura's time. Nor would it do him any good to try and leave the house. At least, not until he knew WHY his was here in their house.

Glancing around at his surroundings for the first time since Ryou had left, Mokuba saw that the room was as richly decorated as the rooms in the Kaiba mansion. Near everything was in perfect condition. The silver and black colour scheme matched Mokuba's tastes exactly, as did the setup of the room. Much of the smaller items scattered around the room were recognized as having belonged to Mokuba himself, stuff that he had long believed lost, from trinkets, to jewellery, clothing, and CDs, though some merchandise was still obviously brand new, having the tags still attached. Though he could not be completely sure, Mokuba was almost positive that these particular items had NOT been paid for. However, he had to hand it to the Thief, and Ryou. They definitely had good, albeit expensive, taste. The leather and silver was the finest that money could buy. Or that a thief could steal.


End file.
